Tigers Eternal
(Part 3)We walked
down more marble halls, descended more wide, winding stairways, passed
more and more guards in orange and black armor. “The original Fighting
Tigers were not drawn from the native people of Veda,” Zaghnal Maratha
told me. “They were probably of Ultramarine geneseed. We’ll never know
for sure because the Rigsamayajur was only begun after the Shindering
of the Templars and the attack of the Chaos Warband Bloodcomet. Thus, much
of the knowledge about the first 800 years of our Chapter is lost.”

We passed through
several airlocks with adamantium doors. The thermoreceptors in my armor
told me that the air was getting colder. “Nonetheless, we know that finding
recruits for new Fighting Tigers was never easy. Our star system is isolated
from the rest of the Imperium by the Maelstrom and the Galactic Core, so
travelling to other systems to find recruits was dangerous and impractical.
And the High Lords of Terra have always reserved our allies, the Kenteans,
for the regiments of the Imperial Guard. So the Tigers have had to rely
on the native people of this planet, but we Vedic are not like you Fenrisians.
We are peaceful people: farmers, not warriors.

“After we were
defeated by the Warband Bloodcomet there were scarcely 200 Tigers left.
The Traitor Marines had butchered millions of Vedic civilians, so recruits
were even harder to find. In desperation, we recruited women to serve as
Space Marines.”

“I had heard
something like that,” I said, “and I think I know why you continued that
practice all these years. Your Raja told me that once you Tigers begin
a tradition, you never end it.”

“It is true
that we are loath to give up any tradition,” he replied, “but that is not
the only reason.” We entered a small decontamination chamber and the door
sealed behind us. Zaghnal Maratha entered a number code on the wall’s keypad
and radiation, visible only to my photoreceptors, flooded the room, cleansing
us.

“Some say that
only one man in a thousand is fit to be a Space Marine,” he said, as we
waited through the cleansing. “Others say that it is only one man in ten
thousand. In any event, Rajas Surya Ashoka and Shrendi Vashtar were determined
that once we were up to full strength we would stay at full strength, forever—through
purusha.”

The radiation
ended and the door before us opened. We entered a marbled vault full of
busy slaves and guarded by more Tigers. Though I am no Wolf Priest, I recognized
the equipment. “This is where you implant the geneseed that turns initiates
into Marines,” I said.

“Correct, Lord
Ferin. I am sure the Space Wolves’ facilities are similar, so I won’t bore
you with a tour. Let us go through those doors opposite and I’ll show you
something you do not have at the Fang.”

We approached
another adamantium door and he entered another number code on another keypad.
The doors slid open to reveal a long corridor with more guards in orange
and black armor. “If you mean to show me where you Tigers keep your geneseed—”

“I do not.
And please lower your voice.”

We passed several
sealed doors; only darkness showed through the small window of each. “The
guards at the feast wore white and black armor, yet here all the guards
wear orange and black,” I said, adjusting my volume controls to speak as
softly as I could.

“The Tigers
of Kali are forbidden to guard what we keep here.”

I was about
to ask him to explain when we stopped at a door. Again, Zaghnal Maratha
entered a number code on the keypad and the door silently slid open. The
room beyond was dark. “Quietly now,” he reminded me.

Girls, none
of them older than the servant girl who had given me the garland of blossoms,
slept in rows on floormats. Zaghnal Maratha pointed out one near the door,
where we stood.

Her hair was
cut short but there was no mistaking its color. Zaghnal Maratha crept into
the room, silent as the animal whose colors he wore, and took a wristband
from the girl. He brought it to me and I read the name there.

Khandar
Madu. 32nd incarnation.

“This girl
is your Raja’s daughter?” I asked.

He shook his
head and replaced the wristband. The sleeping girl stirred for a moment,
half-opened her blue eyes, then closed them and rolled over again. We left,
the door silently sealing shut and locking behind us.

“Like many
other Chapters, we neuter all of our initiates as part of the ancient rites
of transformation from Man to Space Marine. No, as our Chapter was rebuilding
back to full strength, Rajas Surya Ashoka and Shrendi Vashtar ordered our
Tigers of Savitri, whom other Chapters call Apothecaries, to take extensive
tissue samples—blood, bone, muscle, nerve—from every Fighting Tiger and
include these in the main geneseed depository. And even before new Marines
are needed—”

“—you grow
them here,” I finished. “You Tigers are cloned warriors.”

“Exactly, Old
Wolf.”

“So that girl
is your Raja’s clone?”

“Indeed.”

I was silent
for a moment. Then I said, “Show me more.”

We moved deeper
into the complex, past more locked doors, past more guards. Zaghnal Maratha
told me that the cloned children were created in the geneseed lab, grown
in artificial “wombs,” and nursed by slaves. As soon as they can walk they
begin their training to become Space Marines, with half of their time spent
in developing their physical skills, the other half in learning volumes
of Fighting Tiger history, philosophy, and tradition. He explained that
the cloning in no way lessens the time needed to create and train Space
Marines, it merely ensures that the Tigers will have fit recruits. Idly,
I wondered if all Fighting Tigers were so annoyingly talkative. But I let
him continue.

We came to
another roomful of sleeping children, boys, several years older than the
girls we had seen before. “In there,” he said, “is my next incarnation.”

“Will he be
a Librarian, like you?”

“We have tested
him, but he does not have the ability. The cloning process is not perfect.
Uncontrolled variations appear from time to time. Perhaps you have heard
of Khandar Madu’s counterpart, Raja Shamshir Talatra, who, in his present
incarnation, has red eyes and a portwine stain on his head. This current
incarnation of mine,” he said, tapping himself on the chest, “is the only
‘me’ to have possessed psychic powers. But rest assured, we scrutinize
each clone thoroughly and make sure that any variations—”

“—mutations,”
I said.

“—are not harmful.”

“And if the
mutations are harmful?”

“Then, of course,
we terminate that incarnation and begin again.”

“I see. Your
Chapter obeys the
Codex Astartes—”

“—most of it,
anyway,” he said.

“Most of it,
then. Do you keep your numbers to 1,000 or less, as the Codex dictates?
It seems to me with all this cloning you would soon have enough Tigers
to fill every chamber in this hall.”

“Come with
me,” he said.

We came to
a large, cold chamber filled with a dry mist. Hundreds of cryopods were
lined in rows, a frozen Space Marine initiate in most of them. “As you
stay with us, Old Wolf, you will find that there is but one of each incarnation
who has become a Fighting Tiger. When my clone, for example, has reached
a certain level of growth and training, he will be brought here, to sleep
in suspended animation until this current incarnation,” he said, again
tapping his chest, “is killed. Then he will be awakened and will become
a Tiger of Puchan, a Scout, to serve the Emperor once more.”

“Indeed,” I
said. “On Bray I spoke with a Tiger of Kali; Sita Gupta was her name. Could
she be here?”

“Let us look,”
he said, and we walked slowly up and down the rows, pausing here and there
to scrape a bit of frost off a nameplate or peer through the small windows
of the cryopods into the faces of the sleepers.

Sita Gupta
was indeed here. Her hair was black and worn long, but the most striking
change was her face. No Ork axe had taken either of her eyes. She was almost
beautiful, but even in sleep there was a cruel harshness to her features.

“On Bray, she
was Khandar Madu’s commander,” I said. “When she awakens, will she lead
Khandar Madu’s next incarnation again?”

“Possibly,
but not likely. Though we Tigers live again and again, we are not held
to the same roles. Just because Sita Gupta was a Veteran Sergeant in one
life does not mean she will be one again in the next. Khandar Madu’s current
incarnation is the first of hers to become Raja. In my previous lives,
I served in Tactical squads, in Devastator squads, even once as a Tiger
of Tvashtri, a Techmarine like yourself.”

I forced myself
to laugh. “Let us leave these sleepers here to their rest, Zaghnal Maratha,
and I shall ask you one more question.”

We began to
walk back the way we came, past locked doors, past guards. I was silent
for a long time. Finally, I stopped.

“Has not the
Ecclesiarchy forbidden cloning? Have they not condemned it as an act of
Chaos? Have you not heard of the thrice-cursed Clonemaster, Fabius Bile?”

Zaghnal Maratha
gave a thin smile. “You said you had only one more question, Lord Ferin.”

I moved between
him and the wall, blocking any escape that he could hope to make. “How
foolish of you, Zaghnal Maratha, to show me all this. Did you think that
I would remain silent, having seen what I have seen? We Space Wolves hate
Chaos with every fiber of our being. Recall that we destroyed Prospero,
the homeworld of the Thousand Sons. Did you think we could not do the same
to Veda and your Fighting Tigers?”

His face was
grim. “You insult us by questioning our loyalty to the Emperor. You fail
to remember all that we have suffered at the hands of Chaos.”

“Often it is
that those who fight evil would use evil means in their struggle—and in
doing so, become the thing they intended to destroy.” I leaned closer.
“You Tigers have deluded yourselves long enough. Everything about this
place reeks of Chaos, though you know it not. The arcane rituals, the beautiful
architecture, the bountiful food, the colored tapestries, the self-indulgent
poetry you call history,” I sneered. “You dabble in cloning and imprison
children for whatever decadent perversions you can create and dare try
to tell me some fanciful yarn about ‘incarnations’ and ‘past lives.’ I
should have known the first time I ever saw one of your blasphemous ‘woman
Space Marines’ that you Tigers may have once served the Emperor, but you
certainly do not now. Is it any wonder that your ‘Chapter’ has suffered
greatly against the followers of Khorne? Every last one of you, including
that whore you call ‘Raja,’ is a slave to Slaanesh.”

He said nothing.
“When I return to Fenris,” I continued, “I will tell Great Wolf Logan Grimnar
everything I have learned here. He will muster the invincible companies
of the Space Wolves against this place, lovely as it is. We will burn this
fortress to ash, destroy your precious library, obliterate your shrines
to your ‘Tigers Eternal.’ We will carry off these children you have violated
and allow them to serve out the rest of their lives as our slaves. We will
hunt your sacred tigers, the ones that—I have heard—roam the jungles outside
these walls, and we shall mount their heads in our halls and drink beer
from their hollowed-out fangs. Everything you effeminate, servile Tigers
have ever built, we shall destroy. Your Chapter was almost annihilated
by a bunch of Khornate scum: what possible hope do you have against us
of the First Founding, we who fought alongside the Emperor in the Great
Crusades?”

I laughed long
and loud. “You Tigers and your world are doomed, just as the Thousand Sons
and their world were doomed.”

“Master?” Several
of the Fighting Tiger guards were approaching. The photoreceptors mounted
on the rear of my armor saw that one of them bore a meltagun. From behind,
at such close range, he could not help but destroy me with a single shot.
“Forgive us for intruding, Master Zaghnal,” the Marine continued. “May
we be of some assistance?”

Even now, these
Vedic were infuriatingly polite. I made no move, spoke no words, but waited
for Zaghnal Maratha to show his true stripes.

“The reputation
of boldness that you Space Wolves enjoy is well-earned,” Zaghnal told me.
“But ‘boldness’ is perhaps the wrong word: you spit on our hospitality,
you accuse us of being traitors, and you threaten us with extinction. Perhaps
‘rudeness’ is a better word. Or perhaps, best of all, ‘foolishness.’ For
consider that you stand here in the heart of our fortress, alone and outnumbered,
beyond any help from your beloved Fenris or even your Chapter Brothers
sleeping upstairs. Were we truly traitors, Lord Ferin, I would never have
shown you our secret, and even if I had, we would now melt you into slag
where you stand and slit your men’s throats as they sleep. And never would
your Great Wolf hear your accusations against us, and never would they
know of our treachery, until we saw fit to reveal our perfidious nature
to them.

“But we are
not traitors. I am sorry if we have offended you, Lord Ferin. You must,
of course, do what you believe is right. As must I.”

He looked past
me, to the guards. “Return to your posts. We have displeased Lord Ferin
and he and his men will be leaving us tomorrow. Instruct the servants to
prepare for their departure.”

As the guards
turned away, Zaghnal Maratha returned his steely gaze to me. “You say the
Ecclesiarchy has banned cloning and condemned it as an act of Chaos. Ironic,
is it not, that a Space Wolf, of all people, would presume to lecture anyone
about following the edicts of the Ecclesiarchy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I laughed again,
long and loud, and this time I meant it. “Forgive me, friend forever,”
I boomed. “You and your Tigers are no traitors, and well now do I know
it, though for my men and my Emperor I had to put you to the test before
I could believe it. You are quite right: a traitor would never willingly
reveal those secrets, nor would a traitor allow me to take those secrets
from this hallway and thus doom your world. Let me take back my harsh words,
which I never meant, and let us remain friends, wise and patient Tiger.
Let me beg your forgiveness, for you spoke truly: I have been an ungracious
guest in your beautiful home, where your people meant only to welcome us
and give us respite.”

“It is my dharma
to accept the hearfelt apologies of a friend, no matter how much they have
wounded me, and so I shall. You suspected that we were not traitors, but
took the risk and allowed us to show that we were. In the same way, I suspected
that you did not mean what you said, but took the risk and allowed you
to show that you did. I am glad we were right in our suspicions. It avoided
much unnecessary bloodshed.”

“You are an
honorable man, Zaghnal Maratha, and brave as well to take such a risk.”

“Not so brave,
as the risk was not great. You see, we Tigers do not find you Space Wolves
half as fearsome as you imagine yourselves to be.”

He smiled and
we laughed together as old friends should.

We stayed on
Veda for three of their weeks, and in time I understood how Keric Quicbrand
could come to love this world. It is a large, wild place, full of mystery
and power, and if I live another 4,000 years I may never fully understand
it or its people.

Khandar Madu
and Zaghnal Maratha, with their honor guard, came to see us off as we boarded
our Thunderhawks. I ordered the others aboard before I made my farewells
to the two Tigers.

“We are glad
that you came to us, Old Wolf,” Khandar Madu said, “though it saddens us
to see you go. We entreat the Brahman, the Sleeping Emperor whose dreams
shape the universe, that you find the riches you seek and return in glory
to your icy world. Pass along our sustained oaths of friendship to your
Great Wolf, and if you fall somewhere far from home, know that we shall
join the hunt to recover your remains and avenge your death.”

“I thank you
for all you have done for me and my men,” I replied, “and I thank you even
more for your forgiveness. Though I have no right, I would ask one more
thing of you.”

“Granted, of
course,” she said.

“I begin to
understand purusha,” I said, “the cycle of birth and life and death and
rebirth that you Tigers have submitted to. And Master Zaghnal has patiently
explained to me how none but your Librarians remember anything of their
former lives, and that each Tiger must learn again what they knew in the
past; hence the reason for your detailed history. Yet I am still confused
about the Tigers Eternal who slumber beneath your fortress and to whom
you have built elaborate shrines. How do they fit in? Your Raja Surya Ashoka,
who welcomed my lord Keric Quicbrand—does another of his incarnations serve
here, somewhere within these walls? Or does he wait, frozen with the other
initiates, for his turn to rise and begin the final training?”

“Like you and
the other Space Wolf Dreadnoughts,” Zaghnal said, “our Tigers Eternal were
once the greatest of heroes, whose deeds forever affected our Chapter.
Though we have built shrines to them, in truth only one honor is great
enough to bestow upon them: the honor of nirvana.”

“Another
strange word from a strange land,” I said.

“Nirvana,”
he continued, “is a release from purusha. For them, there are no more incarnations.
They have earned a rest, an eternal rest if they so desire, though many
of them choose, from time to time, to return to this existence and share
their wisdom with us or fight alongside us. Thus, there are no more clones
of Raja Surya, nor of Shrendi Vashtar, nor of Shiva Nagordarika. And if
Raja Khandar and I obey our dharma, our sacred duty, and serve our Chapter
as best we can, perhaps in some incarnation we too will be worthy to achieve
nirvana and end the burden of purusha.”

“But until
that time,” Khandar Madu said, “we shall serve. And hunt. And fight. And
we shall do so forever, life after life, if the Brahman wills it, for in
a sense, all of us here on Veda are tigers eternal.”

As our Thunderhawks
blasted away from Veda I watched that strange green world grow smaller
and smaller.

“You spent
much time alone with the Vedic,” the Rune Priest Horsa Drachenbane said
to me as we reboarded the Munnin. “What did you think of them?”

“I pity them,”
I said, “for they are damned.”

“Damned?” he
asked. “I saw no signs—”

“Not damned
to Chaos. I shall speak no more of it now, but I tell you this: rejoice
in the knowledge that all we suffer for our Emperor has an end. For if
what I have learned is true, the Tigers’ suffering never ends. And they
have chosen it to be so.”